EVERYWHERE IS DIFFERENT. EVERYWHERE IS THE SAME by Howard Feigenbaum

Everywhere is different. Everywhere is the same.

     Our impression of the world as we travel focuses on the things that vary from what we know: the language, the customs, the clothing, the food, the architecture. But the people are not so different. The only thing missing in our face-to-face encounters is that we can’t easily know each other, largely the result of communication barriers.

     The experience of travel is more than being there. Of course, we want to say we’ve seen the Eiffel Tower, the pyramids, the cathedrals, the tombs, the castles, and any other structures that appear as highlights in travel brochures. If sightseeing—looking at physical objects—was the defining element in exploring the world, the feat could be accomplished by viewing postcards and posters.

     On the Greek island of Rhodes, two boys sang and played the accordion in the town square. The melody was familiar. We stopped, listened, and enjoyed. The simplicity and innocence of youth drew us to them. We instinctively cared. Our smiles made the introduction to hearing the music of life.

     The most important aspect of travel, in my view, is meeting and knowing the people. This is where understanding and lasting memories happen. I would rather spend an afternoon enjoying a coffee at a sidewalk café, chatting with fellow customers, than marching through museums, viewing ancient artifacts.

     In the late afternoon at a sidewalk café in Buenos Aires, my wife and I ordered snacks and drinks. The people at the next table did the same. In short order, cross-table conversation brought us into each other’s lives. Our dining neighbors were family members who, once a week, came together at that location to stay in touch and enjoy each other’s company over wine and light fare. For Argentines, family contact is an important value in living their lives, even in the bustling urban expanse of Buenos Aires. Our short time with them remains a fond memory.

     A street bazaar in a Hong Kong alley had a food stall where a vendor offered hot bowls of noodles, meats, and vegetables. A makeshift awning and temporary tables and chairs created a constrained dining area. We perused the menu, a half-dozen photographs pinned to a board, which wasn’t helpful in deciding what to order. After a quick scan of what others were eating, my wife asked a man and his adult son at a nearby table what those dishes were. The man didn’t speak English fluently but wanted to practice. His son, working on a degree in physical therapy at a college in San Francisco, helped out. The door to conversation opened.

     Before traveling to Hong Kong, I watched every available movie about Ip Man. He was a legendary Grand Master of the Wing Chun style of Kung Fu and an opponent of the Communist takeover of mainland China and the Japanese incursion during World War II. I asked the father, “Have you heard of Ip Man?” He said the Grand Master was his cousin and expressed delight in my interest. We spent the meal enjoying a vibrant, pleasant conversation about his famous relative and his and his son’s background. In our short time together, we transcended the barrier of strangers sitting at separate tables in a side street booth. We had, at least, reached the level of acquaintances and progressed  down the road to friendship.

     Communicating in Asia can be difficult. I found hotel staff and people working in tourist areas were conversant in English. Taxi drivers, however, often were not. Before visiting Japan, I loaded Google Translate onto my cell phone. On a trip to the Yokohama airport, the driver attempted to speak English, but his knowledge of the language was extremely limited and frustrated conversation. My knowledge of Japanese was non-existent. I took out my cell phone, set Google Translate to Japanese, and asked a question. I held the phone toward him as the sentence played in Japanese. He grinned, reached for his phone, and spoke. The response in English filtered into the back seat of the cab. For the remainder of the ride, we chatted like old buddies. By the time we reached the airport, we were.